


As Kindling for the Soul

by digitalfairy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A Certain Piece of Level 44 Chest Gear, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Coitus Interruptus, Grinding, Hate Sex, Impersonation, Love Bites, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Premature Ejaculation, Rivals With Benefits, Role Reversal, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-10-20 21:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20682203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalfairy/pseuds/digitalfairy
Summary: In which my alt, Qerqei Dotharl, sleeps with a bunch of my favorite NPCs, because sometimes you just have to treat yourself.





	1. chaos thrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x Foulques; Foulques PoV]
> 
> Chronologically the first of Qerqei's many relationships, and one of the more tempestuous ones at that. Qerqei starts her adventure in Gridania as a lancer, and immediately sets her sights on the most unsavory man in the room. Ywain plays a bit part here as... whatever the opposite of a wingman is called.
> 
> This chapter assumes foreknowledge of the entire Lancer 1-30 quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the description says "A lot of my favorite NPCs." Foulques is not one of my favorite NPCs. However, Qerqei does not know that nor would she care if she did. You know how OCs are - they get away from you a bit.

Ywain's men stared resolutely at Foulques. His challenge hung unanswered in the varnish-scented air of the guild. The Duskwight swung his guisarme from person to person accusingly, but not one lancer stepped forward. Foulques grunted in annoyance.

Footsteps on the hard wood. Foulques swung his head around to assess the new party. A scruffy-haired, disheveled foreigner - one of those scaled types from Othard. A rare sight around these parts. She'll do, Foulques decided, heedless of Ywain's shouted protest. An example, if nothing else, to these shameful cowards. He rushed to close the distance.

His thrust halted just before it connected with her scaly nose. She hadn't budged an ilm. Her eyes crossed a little to regard the lance point, then refocused upon him with an almost impassive air. She'd called his bluff so casually… Foulques found himself intrigued.

* * *

Since that day, Foulques had nurtured a splendid rivalry with the Xaela. He had learned her name was Qerqei and that she was of a tribe called the Dotharl. Her fearlessness came from a tenet of her tribe's beliefs - she had little regard for her own life because she was convinced she would simply be reincarnated and carry on living as before.

Foulques was impressed, for the first time in a very long time. Here was a new type of courage, taught from birth and completely ingrained into the personality. He yearned to test himself against it, to struggle with her for dominance. And, he admitted to himself, she fascinated him in other ways as well.

Soon he discovered that the feeling was mutual. After a long sparring match that had the pair rampaging through the undergrowth, Qerqei finally got the better of him and dragged him to the ground with her atop him. Her freckled face flushed and sweaty, she stared down at him with no small amount of lust in her wild eyes. Her hips ground maddeningly against his own. Foulques hurriedly banished the layers of leather between them and she rode him right there in the bush they'd landed in.

This came to be their new routine. They'd spar, or Foulques would drag her to some new den of feral beasts and watch her lay into the whole pack with abandon. Then, flushed with the thrill of battle, she would tackle him, or he her, and they would fuck. Sometimes she didn't even want to train, preferring instead to skip straight to the end, and who was Foulques to deny his favored rival.

She didn't ever ask with words, only gazed steadily into his eyes with the selfsame expression he saw when they sparred. An arch, taunting stare and a self-satisfied smirk, demanding more of him just as his determination to prove himself did.

She was a fierce and inexact lover, which suited him fine. So needy, so insistent, she barely afforded him a chance to breathe - so he returned the favor, driving the breath forcefully from her lungs with his muscular hips. Sweaty, desperate, and intense was their coupling, neither willing to let up and betray some form of weakness. He came away with every encounter covered in Au Ra tooth marks, but he wore the wounds with pride. The only creature in the Twelveswood who could land a bite on him deserved to, in his estimation.

It wasn't love, precisely, but it never needed to be. It was naked, unabashed lust and he liked it that way. They were as the beasts they challenged, abiding by twin instincts - the need to breed and the drive to prove one's fitness for survival. And even when she overpowered him to take her place atop him, Foulques felt vindicated, felt satisfied, because here was someone who  _ understood. _

* * *

Or he thought she understood. Ywain, that meddling cur, saw fit to discourage her from seeing him again. Of course, she came to him again regardless, eventually, but it was the principle of the thing. Damnable Hyur.

Foulques lay awake under a sky unconcerned by his bitterness and dreamed up insults and threats. He thought about how he would cow Ywain and take back what was rightfully his. For he had won her and claimed her and  _ taken  _ her, over and over and over again. How could she be anything but his? His student, his training partner, his lay.

But before he could do anything of the sort, he failed. He fell to his knees and he gave in, and it wasn't to her, it wasn't in the way he could bear. And how humiliating that it wasn't even her that saved him, though she did leap to his aid immediately. It was  _ Ywain! _

Foulques would not suffer such a wound to his dignity. He offered her one last chance to prove herself, presenting his retreating back to her, and this time of all times she failed him. She did not join him in quitting the scene, she did not even leap upon the man who had at last proven himself too weak for her and tear him to shreds. Nay, he would have preferred that!

Instead, the traitorous wench heeded Ywain as he told her to stay. She went back to meekly taking her lessons at the guild, though Foulques knew she far outshined each and every one of them. The injustice of it all fair seethed within him.

Foulques sought out the fiercest predator he could and rendered it his prey. But there was no glory in goring the mighty wolf's throat out, no pleasure in making mincemeat of the fearsome hog. The only beast he truly cared about bringing to heel, he had lost through his own failing. Nay, he trained now to harden his heart against what must be done. They must meet again, as enemies, and Foulques would make up for the mercy she'd shown him with none of his own.

* * *

She was a  _ demon. _ Foulques stumbled backwards, icy tendrils of fear clutching at his heart for the first time in years. So she was holding back all the times she'd faced him before? Nay, there was a different light in her eyes now. A brilliant, impossible resolve. She'd found true courage, of a kind he couldn't even fathom. What monstrous enemy could she have faced down?!

Foulques babbled and stammered protests as he drew nearer to the edge he could not see. As he retreated, the fury in her expression faded, rapidly replaced by concern. He didn't want her pity, damn it! Not again!

He did not have time to find his feet again and defy her. Though there was strength left in his soul, all the courage in the world could not save him from a plummet of unfathomable depth. He had ample time to realize that he had slipped from the precipice, but it was far too late to do anything about it.

He screamed, embarrassingly. But by the time he struck the ground at an unsurvivable speed, hidden from her view by mist, he had made his peace. Foulques died with a smile on his face.

The only creature in the Twelveswood who could kill him deserved to, in his estimation.


	2. shirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x Thancred; Thancred PoV]
> 
> This is the part of the MSQ where the intrepid adventurer finally makes the acquaintance of the Scions. This happens between the end of Foulques and Qerqei's rivalry and their final fight.
> 
> Thancred is interested in the hot girl, as he often is. Qerqei gives him a run for his money.
> 
> This chapter assumes foreknowledge of the relevant portion of the MSQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's In a Name" was such an uninspired title. I have changed it.
> 
> For Qerqei's soul to burn as bright as that of her predecessors, she will need to outdo them in all respects. Which is by all accounts no mean feat...

“So who is this mysterious lady adventurer you’ve found for us today, Yda, Papalymo?” Thancred inquired, not even bothering to mask the curiosity in his voice.

“You keep your devilish charms in  _ check _ , Thancred. We don’t want to drive this one off,” the Lalafellin thaumaturge reprimanded. “She’s got the Echo, for starters. That alone makes her more useful than you.”

Thancred chuckled, knowing Papalymo didn’t mean that. Mostly. “You’re not making her sound less interesting.”

“She’s a Xaela, all the way from Othard!” Yda expounded, an excited contrast to her stern partner. “She’s really strong! And really purple.”

“She fights like a woman possessed,” Papalymo agreed, more neutrally. “She all but dispatched an Ascian by herself. And she’s been accepting dangerous assignments from the Guild and emerging unscathed.”

“She grows more intriguing by the minute,” Thancred mused, pushing a lock of snow-white hair out of his face. “Fierce, capable, and confident? We can always use some more of that around here.”

“Do NOT attempt to seduce her, you absolute rake.” Papalymo took half a step forward. “I will not have my work negated by your desire for --”

“Let us all calm down,” Minfilia interjected, raising her hands. “Urianger, when did Momodi say our guest was arriving?”

The student of prophecy slowly raised his hooded head from the book it was buried in. “She is a quarter bell overdue, milady. Mayhap some mercenary task betwixt Horizon and our threshold distracteth her. Thou knowest well the adventurer’s mercurial whims.”

Just then, the door to the solar clattered open. A Xaela with a lance on her back strode confidently in, surveying the little group of Scions with a toothy grin.

_ She’s got fangs, _ Thancred found himself noticing.  _ How thrilling. _

Tataru hurried in after her, the boisterous guest apparently having outpaced her escort. “Minfilia, everyone, this is Qerqei Dotharl!” She gestured theatrically to the Xaela.

Yda waved. “Hi, Qerqei!”

Qerqei waved back.

* * *

Minfilia set about explaining the purpose and history of the Scions, and what it really meant to possess the Echo. Qerqei listened attentively. Thancred, however, knew all of this by heart already. The bard allowed his focus to stray, surreptitiously surveying the prodigious adventurer before him.

Qerqei wore simple and functional battle garb. A tunic, fingerless gloves, and leather boots. Likely purchased in Gridania. Her lance wasn’t anything special either. Her unkempt blue hair and bright purple skin, though, meant she assuredly stuck out in any given Eorzean crowd regardless. Her thick tail swung side to side slightly as she listened. Her horns pointed forwards, and dark scales and freckles both decorated her face.  _ And presumably other places, _ Thancred thought to himself with a small smile.

Just then, her piercing green eyes glanced in his direction, and she smiled back, baring those pointy canines again. Thancred felt just a twinge of adrenaline, wondering if the Echo had rendered his motivations transparent.

* * *

In a curious twist of fate, Qerqei was assigned to investigate Drybone under Thancred’s supervision first.  _ Or perhaps the Antecedent is simply enabling me, _ he thought flippantly, chuckling softly at the concept.

“So, we’ll be working together.” Qerqei’s handshake was firm, firmer than Thancred was expecting. She favored him again with that fanged grin and raised an eyebrow. “I think we ought to get to know each other a little better, instead of heading out right away.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Thancred smirked. “Might I interest you in a drink?” He gestured down the hallway towards the Waking Sands’ communal area.

Qerqei’s smile widened. “I could be persuaded.”

* * *

“So is this a requirement for joining the Scions, or just a recommendation?” Qerqei leered down at Thancred from her position straddling him. The heels of her hands dug into his shoulders as she leaned down for a kiss.

“Let’s call it a perk of the position,” he murmured, running his hands up her legs, around the curve of her pert rear, up her bare hips…

The Midlander’s smooth smile belied his inner thoughts.  _ I’m not entirely convinced I’m the one doing the seducing anymore. _ Qerqei had been positively eager to follow him back to his room. He was almost disappointed he didn’t have to put effort into charming her - that was normally his favorite part.  _ If I didn’t know better, I might suspect her of being an Imperial spy, trying to beat me at my own game. _

Thancred’s fingers traced the edges of Qerqei’s extensive scales, distracted from their lascivious goal by simple tactile curiosity. _ But good old Papalymo wouldn’t let something like that slip past him. I guess she might really just be... easy. _ He shifted under her, arching his back a little as she kissed her way past his tattoo.  _ Birds of a feather, we are. _

He enjoyed the sensation of her lips - and her hands, and the points of her canine teeth - exploring him for a few moments longer. He did his best to return the favor, to rile her up as her touch did to him, but the position was awkward. If he were on top, Thancred reasoned, it would be much easier to tease Qerqei back. To reach the whole of her with his mouth, his hands. So he moved to roll the both of them over…

And he was  _ thoroughly _ rebuffed. At the first inclination that she was about to be unseated, the well-muscled lancer resisted him with what Thancred had to admit was superior strength, a mischievous grin on her face. He settled back against the mattress - it was all he  _ could _ do. “Well,” he chuckled. “Someone knows what she wants.”

“Giving up so soon?” she murmured, leaning down to nip at his ear. “Surely you must have some roguish trick to disarm me.”

“Nay, miss. You have me at your mercy.” This was not usually the part Thancred played, but damned if he couldn’t play it. He spread his arms with a helpless smile. “Take the lead, then, if that is what you desire.” An arched eyebrow and a tilt of the head.

_ That _ seemed to galvanize her, in a way that his roving hands failed to. After a kiss that fair pressed his head into the pillow, Qerqei reached back and took a commanding hold of his manhood. “I’m ready,” she announced, and that was all the chance to prepare himself he was given before he was inside her.

Thancred marveled, for a moment, at Qerqei’s self-assuredness. Only a moment, though. He had more pressing concerns, just then.

He took hold of her again and set himself to the task of pleasing them both - a task she was wholly devoted to as well. Hands braced on his chest, she rolled her hips, slowly at first but ever faster. She grinned down at him the whole time.

“Hells,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Would that every woman had your enthusiasm.”

“I doubt you could handle another of me,” she taunted, leaning down to kiss at his neck. “Seeing as you’re barely handling one.”

Thancred shrugged. “I may not be imposing my will upon you, but you’re playing right into my hands regardless.” Said hands slid up her body to cup her breasts. “Got you right where I want you, I do.”

She pressed herself into his grip, still fixing him with a steady smirk. “Allowing yourself to be defeated isn’t a gambit, Thancred.”

“Perhaps I’m saving my strength. I’ll strike when you’re weakest.” Maintaining the sultry tone of voice was a challenge in the face of her riding him so aggressively, but Thancred was nothing if not silver-tongued. If she wanted banter, banter she would get.

“Bring it on,” she breathed, licking her lips, and Thancred found himself inspired to.

* * *

“Shite!” Thancred grimaced. Seemingly to suppress her own cry of pleasure, Qerqei had abruptly bit him on the shoulder with considerable force. “Feisty one, aren’t you.” That was  _ definitely _ going to leave a mark. He thanked the Twelve she’d aimed for somewhere his clothing normally covered. Y’shtola would never let him hear the end of it.

Even the pain was difficult to focus on, though, for Qerqei’s hips had not stilled with her climax. Not remotely. Thancred chewed his lip, resisting his own, determined to sate her before he got his.

That resolution crumbled to bits as the moments dragged on with no sign of the Xaela flagging. “Seven hells, ah… Qerqei,” he gasped, “May I have the honor of -”

“Inside’s fine.” Once again she caught his meaning immediately.

“Glorious,” he grunted, fingers tightening on her hips as his long-denied orgasm arrived. Or, perhaps "erupted" was a better word.

She whimpered at the heat blooming inside her and bit him again. More softly, this time. But still hard enough to break the skin.

When he could breathe again, Thancred idly wondered if all Xaela showed affection this way, or if Qerqei was just especially bitey. He watched her as she rode him to another climax, admiring the dusting of freckles that indeed dipped lower beyond her face, the intricate patterns her scales formed. The arch of her back, the quiet parting of her lips, the half-lidded stare she gave him. Her.

Qerqei rolled off him, sprawling amidst the bedclothes without a care in the world. “I think we work well together,” she announced contentedly, and Thancred couldn’t agree more.


	3. flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x Thancred; Thancred PoV]
> 
> The Flames, betrayed from within. The newest Scion, captured. The Lord of Flames, looming.
> 
> Thancred doesn't want to fail anyone else. Qerqei is a whirlwind of adrenaline. Through Ifrit's flames, what awaits?
> 
> This chapter assumes foreknowledge of the relevant portion of the MSQ.

“Damn! Damn, damn, damn!” Thancred swore as he ran. For all his roguish slipperiness, the Amalj’aa had delayed him for much longer than he would have liked.

_ Perhaps too long. _

No. He wouldn’t let himself think that. Qerqei was alive. She had to be.

_ But what if she’s not? _

Thancred broke into a full sprint, outpacing the Flame soldiers he traveled with. Zahar’ak’s twisting passages would normally be confusing to navigate, but Thancred had a horrible compass to follow - the Lord of Flame’s inexorable heat.

The eclipse darkly illuminating the sky above Zahar’ak this day was no legitimate astronomical body. The true sun, in fact, still hung behind Thancred, mercilessly beating down upon the Sagolii. Primals warped their environment to suit them, and for some unfathomable primal reason Ifrit preferred this alien light. The rest of Urianger’s lecture on the phenomenon had gone over Thancred’s head, or perhaps his thoughts had been elsewhere.

_ Thinking of a woman, no doubt. Can’t you think of anything else? _

Try as he might, Thancred could not stop the procession of awful images crawling nonstop through his mind. _ Qerqei struggling under the claws of the Lord of Flames. Qerqei beset on all sides by tempered soldiers. Qerqei nursing a critical wound, too pained to move as Ifrit reared back to roast her alive. Qerqei’s… charred corpse. _

_ Yet another of your failings. _

“Thrice-godsdamned bastard son of the seventh hell’s shite-eating liege!” Thancred exclaimed, his Limsan accent momentarily unsuppressed. He kicked a large pebble with the next swing of his leg. It spun out of sight, the pain he’d caused his toes in so doing not altering the course of his vile thoughts one bit.

Finally, Thancred rounded the last corner, panting hard.

A ring of fire, burning lower every moment. And in the center, Qerqei Dotharl, alive but clearly every bit as winded as he was. She leaned heavily on her spear and and labored to catch her breath. 

Thancred let out a sigh of relief and hurried to her. He nimbly leapt over the guttering flames, too impatient to wait until they ceased entirely. He swung his head from side to side, but there was no sign of the Lord of Flames. Qerqei had… won, then? In single combat against a fearsome primal?

_ Of course. You had never had anything to worry about. What were you thinking. _

“Qerqei!” he called, trying to get her attention. Her bedraggled head swung around, and Thancred couldn’t do more than register the frenzied expression in her eyes before she bodily tackled him to the hot, cracked earth.

“Thancred,” she croaked, throat parched by searing air. “Just in time...”

Her tone - was she…

The clomp-clomp-clomp of booted feet distracted Thancred from the Xaela’s insistent attentions. He squirmed out from beneath her and stood up, clearing his throat. “Later,” he hissed, before striding over to the Flame soldiers as if nothing had happened.

The privates wasted no time capturing and trussing their tempered fellows, faces crestfallen. Thancred felt for them - it never did get easier.

The two Scions did their best to help where they could with the cleanup, but Qerqei’s mind was clearly elsewhere. Thancred had to admit his was too. Of all her potential reactions to his late arrival, he never could have predicted immediate and desperate _ lust. _

Perhaps the chaotic and stressful nature of the situation had set her emotions running amok? Perhaps the thrill of victory was intoxicating or even arousing to her? Thancred theorized wildly, unable to focus on his own work, constantly glancing around to locate the Xaela. Several times, she was staring at him when his eyes found her.

The post-primal hubbub lasted far too long for either of their liking. Eventually, the pair slunk away to Drybone’s inn, neither able to bear the tension any longer, and Thancred earned himself several new bite marks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Thancred. His preoccupation with protecting people post-goobbue parade is low key one of my favorite themes in early FFXIV.
> 
> Meanwhile, Qerqei gets turned on by danger. You can blame Foulques for that one.


	4. shade shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x "Thancred"; "Thancred" PoV]
> 
> Thancred's investigation has yielded some troubling results, and he is considering how best to proceed.
> 
> This chapter assumes foreknowledge of mid to late 2.0.

“Thou look’st unwell, Thancred. What ails thee? Dost thine inquest into the Ascian threat not bear fruit?” Urianger tilts his head to meet the Midlander’s downturned eyes.

“On the contrary. The fruit it bears is most troubling. I am… at a loss, presently.”

“Mayhap I can offer succor. Tell me thine quandary.” Urianger straightens up again, placing a hand to his chin as if in preparation to engage in scholarly thought.

“Oh, it’s not a problem of capability or knowledge. It is just that… the more I discover about our adversary, the less I can stomach it. The Paragons are a callous bunch and no mistake.” Thancred spits off to the side.

“Ah.” Urianger sagely nods. “Indeed. ‘Twould be folly to continue to immerse oneself in such horrors without rest. Pray take thine ease, then.”

Thancred looks up and musters a weary smile. “I’ll continue soon, don’t you worry. Just need a moment to process what I’ve learned. I’ll have a full report for you and the Antecedent in due time.”

“I keenly await the chance to peruse it.” The Elezen bows slightly, then turns on his heel. “If thou hast need of mine guidance, thou knowest where to find me.”

“That I do,” Thancred mutters to Urianger’s retreating back.

_ That was easy. _

Lahabrea twists his stolen lips into a smirk.  _ Vain of them to think they can so brazenly oppose us, when fooling them is that simple. _ He stands and stretches slightly, making doubly sure Urianger has disappeared around the corner. _ van Baelsar will be much pleased to learn of this secret order’s location. I shall linger here for a while longer, gather as much intel on their movements as I can, and then - _

A gloved hand impacts the wall beside his head, jolting Lahabrea out of his megalomaniacal inner monologue. It’s the Scions’ new eikon-slayer, the person he was most fervently hoping not to run into. She cants her head to the side and leers at him in a most unsettling manner.

_ Damn! _ He’d thought she was busy with the kobolds’ god. Lahabrea strains his memory - what was her name? “Qerqei! You startled me.”

“I thought that, since the Company of Heroes has me running errands all over creation, I might as well stop in and have a little fun on my way back to Vylbrand.” Qerqei licks her lips. “Of course, I’m in a hurry. I can’t keep you up all night like last time. We’ll have to make it quick.”

** _Oh._ ** _ Oh dear.  _ With some difficulty, Lahabrea prevents his surprise from showing on Thancred’s face. “Hmmm. I don’t know. I’m somewhat busy at the moment myself.”  _ I should have known this self-proclaimed bard would have some fling or other lurking about. This is rather a large oversight. Still, perhaps I can use this to my advantage. _

Qerqei’s smile fades slightly. “Really? Too busy to score? What have you done with the real Thancred?” she chuckles.

He knows it’s just a joke, but it makes his blood run cold.  _ Damn… if I keep deflecting, she may truly start to suspect something. Guess I’ve no choice.  _ “I jest, milady, of course.” He places a hand on her hip and lowers his voice to what he imagines is a sultry tone. “I always have time for you.” This last whispered close to her horn.

Her response is to lean over and bite him on the neck. Though Lahabrea chooses not to feel the pain of his vessel as keenly, it still makes him flinch with its suddenness. “Gah!”

“Then let us be about it,” she purrs, disengaging from his loose embrace and sashaying around the corner opposite where Urianger went.

_ To this body’s private room, no doubt. _ Lahabrea shakes his head as he follows. He feels his neck bleeding and puts a hand to the bite mark.  _ Ugh. Now I know where my host acquired all these tooth-marks. _

As soon as he shuts the door behind him, Qerqei is all over him again. Pinning him to the wall, pushing his tunic up. She somehow doffed her scalemail in the time he was dragging his feet getting there, and all she’s wearing is a simple bra and panties.

Lahabrea feels her up lazily. She seems inclined to take the lead, and he’s inclined to let her. 

After several hungry, intrusive kisses, she directs her mouth lower. She kisses down his chest, which she’s successfully bared at last. At the same time, her hand slips under the waist of his trousers, seeking his genitalia.

Lahabrea rolls his hips a little bit and exhales softly.  _ At least it’s not hard to react like I’m enjoying this. The base reflexes of this body do much of the work for me. _

She inelegantly gropes him until he’s hard, then pulls down his pants with her teeth and the other hand.

“Now don’t get too bitey down there. I’ve got but one of those and you’ll miss it almost as much as I will if something happens to it.”  _ That sounds like something Thancred would say,  _ he reckons.

Qerqei bares her teeth in another lascivious grin. “Oh, don’t you worry.” She presses her face against his member and nuzzles at it. “Ahh.”

Lahabrea bites his lip.  _ If nothing else, it is amusing to be fornicating with my most pernicious enemy. If only she knew whose prick she was really worshipping. Perhaps I’ll derive some pleasure from this after all. _ “That’s right,” he murmurs archly, his grin suddenly more genuine. “Suck it, Qerqei.”

“Mmmm.” She’s already got her mouth wrapped around him, saliva dripping down her chin as she sloppily and shamelessly fellates him. Even debasing herself like this she has the audacity to shoot a confident glance upwards, one eyebrow arched.

Lahabrea’s fingers sink into her hair, tensing slightly as she tries to pull back. “No.”

Her eyes widen slightly, before narrowing into a defiant glare.

“I said suck it. All of it.  _ Hero. _ ” He hadn’t meant to utter the last word out loud, nor for the sentence to come out with remotely the level of condescension he had inflected. He hopes Thancred was anywhere close to this forceful under normal circumstances, or he would be endangering his position.

Her eyes widen again, and this time they stay wide. She sets to her task again with renewed fervor.

Lahabrea’s grin returns. He is learning  _ ever so much _ about the Scion’s champion today.  _ Pity much of it will be useless in a fight. _ He keeps the pressure on, lightly discouraging her from coming back up.

Qerqei sets her shoulders and pushes forwards. His prick enters her throat. She’s swallowed Thancred’s full length, and she keeps him there despite the resistance of her reflexes. One hand is digging in her panties, pleasuring herself.

_ Oh, how infuriatingly she rises to any task.  _ Lahabrea exhales a growl of pleasure and strokes his hand through her hair. “Haaah. Much as I’d like to come down your heroic throat and watch you gag on it, we are on a tight schedule, are we not? Up.” He releases her, pointing at the unmade bed.

Qerqei stands up, wiping her mouth on her hand. She bites him on the shoulder, hard, seemingly as chastisement. But she does retreat to the bed, sitting on the edge and spreading her legs obediently. And grinning that devilish grin.

_ Worry not, eikon-slayer. We’ll put a crack in that smile.  _ Lahabrea bends over her, taking a firm hold of her shoulders. He kisses her roughly and jams his prick inside her, pushing aside her lacy underthings with hardly any resistance.

Qerqei gasps and squirms, clutching at the bedclothes. “How the tables have turned,” she whispers.

_ So Thancred is not usually the one setting the pace? Hah. If any of your frail consciousness remains aware deep inside there, let me show you how it is done.  _ “I thought the time was ripe for some payback.”

The Xaela laughs. “Give me what I  _ deserve, _ Thancred.”

“Gladly.” He rams himself home. “On one condition.”

Her breath catches in her throat at the impact. “What’s that?”

“I want to hear you  _ scream,  _ hero.” With that, he lays into her with as much force as he can muster. Relentless thrusting, deep and fast.

Her reaction is splendid. Immediately, she’s arching her back, chest heaving. It doesn’t take but a few more thrusts to make her cry out. “Augh! Thancred, oh, fuck! Nnnngh!”

_ How eloquent. _ Lahabrea sneers. “That’s good. More.” Seized by a sudden whim, he leans down and bites  _ her _ on the neck, sparing little thought for gentleness. “How do you like it?” All the while, his hips continue to piston.

She likes it well indeed, if her whimpering and writhing is any indication. “Aaa-aaahhh… Ohhh…”

He bites her again. And again.  _ How cathartic. It is a pity she will die before she realizes who is leaving these wounds. If only I could do it right now… that would be simply the height of ecstasy. But indulging thus would blow my cover in the most egregious way possible.  _ He grunts against her neck. He can feel Thancred’s strength starting to fade, and he draws on his creation powers to re-energize the tired flesh.  _ Patience, Lahabrea, patience. This indignity you shall soon have reparations for. Titan will crush her. And it shall be a joy to watch. _

Qerqei’s orgasm is positively explosive. She screams out just as he commanded her to, shuddering beneath him. He doesn’t stop, wrenching cry after cry of pleasure from her.

As Lahabrea basks in her climactic spasm, only dimly aware that he is ejaculating too, he hears the door to the room clatter open behind him.

“Wherefore dost thou-” An exclamation cut short by realization.

_ Damn it all, I forgot to lock the door. _ Lahabrea raises Thancred’s head and shoots the most withering possible look back at the goggled Elezen, who has the good sense to look chagrined. “When I want your help, I shall ask for it. I have matters  _ well _ in hand here, Urianger.”

“V-verily,” the scholar stammers, cheeks flushed, and beats a hasty retreat. The door slams behind him.

Lahabrea pulls out, leaving Qerqei twitching and insensate on the bedclothes. He wipes Thancred’s prick on her discarded gambeson and clothes himself again. “‘Twas a rare joy to see your more vulnerable side,  _ hero, _ ” he spits, and leaves the room.

* * *

“It beggars belief,” Y’shtola mutters, taking a prim bite of the omelet Qerqei had slaved to procure, “that you should be forced to provide the victuals for a feast in your own honor. And all while the specter of Titan looms above us.” The Miqo’te glances over at the Xaela seated beside her. “You seem to be in high spirits, however, despite it all. I cannot fathom how you manage it.”

Qerqei only grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know? Lahabrea possesses Thancred way before he disappears. That means Lahabrea is kickin' around in the Waking Sands for some time between Ifrit and Titan. Meaning a certain amorous lizard could quite possibly end up unknowingly approaching him for sex. The moment I realized this, I knew I had to put it down in writing. And good lord what a result.


	5. provoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x Haurchefant; Qerqei PoV]
> 
> Qerqei takes a well-deserved break after rescuing Francel, and offers Haurchefant an opportunity to display his gratitude. Haurchefant finds her attire immensely distracting.
> 
> This chapter assumes familiarity with the relevant part of the MSQ.

_ “Pointers to seduce someone? Well, as I’m sure a woman of your experience knows, everybody has something they can’t resist. A little private weakness that will stoke the flame of their passion to a full blaze in an instant. It’s just a matter of finding it. Tell me about the person you've got your eye on.” _

* * *

This did not feel particularly like “weakness” to Qerqei. Haurchefant had her pinned to the desk, warm hands exploring her with a fervor she thought Ishgardians usually reserved for piety. He murmured sweet nothings into her bare abs, eliciting a shiver from the Xaela.

“So I guessed right,” she surmised, propping herself up on one elbow. “You_ are _attracted to me.”

“My only regret,” he shot back, raising his flushed face to make eye contact, “is that you had to guess. Alas, the shackles of propriety kept me from speaking plainly. Full glad am I that you have no compunctions about being more forward.”

* * *

_“An Ishgardian? And a lord at that? Aiming high, you are. Well, I don't recognize his name. But I have heard whispers that suggest things about how Ishgardian lords and ladies comport themselves behind closed doors.” _

* * *

Haurchefant took hold of her waistband. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

He pulled the subligar down to her knees in one motion, and paused, covering his mouth with a closed fist. “Again, Qerqei Dotharl, you fluster and confound me. I was rather expecting…”

“Anything?” She smirked, spreading her legs as much as the trousers around her knees would allow. The sudden chill on her exposed privates she endured, knowing it would soon be remedied.

Haurchefant ran one hand up her bare thigh. “Something more than this thin leather, at the very least.” His other hand lingered on the steel of her galerus, thumb playing with the little armor plate’s strap.

“I came here with a singular intention, ser.” She smirked boldly up at the Elezen, narrowing her eyes.

Haurchefant exhaled through barely parted lips and leaned down to kiss her. “A knight lives to serve. Pray let this knight serve you, madam,” he whispered.

* * *

_ “I know a Gridanian tanner who sometimes visits Ul'dah on business. She only ever drinks here at the Quicksand, I'm proud to say. Once, she mentioned fielding an order for twenty subligars and twenty harnesses from a Coerthan noble. She wondered at what use Ishgardians, enveloped in eternal winter, could have for gladiatorial gear that exposed the wearer so. A Temple Knight has certainly never worn a harness into battle. Let me tell you, Qerqei, there’s only one other real use for garments like that…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, there's a leatherworker levequest in Heavensward which implies Ishgardian nobility import Coliseum gear for use in the bedroom. As physical dps characters do, Qerqei was running around in a Coliseum Galerus for some of the first Coerthan portion of the MSQ. 2 plus 2 equals... Haurchefant with a little gladiator kink?


	6. intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x Haurchefant; Corentiaux PoV]
> 
> Qerqei earns a reputation for herself around Camp Dragonhead.
> 
> This chapter assumes foreknowledge of the relevant portion of the MSQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: This chapter does not require me to add any new tags to the work!
> 
> (I'm not tagging the viewpoint character. Sorry to all those Corentiaux the Colder fans out there who won't see this.)

The doors creaked open to admit a gust of wintry wind and Brigie the inquisitor. “Has anyone seen Lord Haurchefant lately?” she inquired of the men in the room, an expression of concern upon her face.

Corentiaux, who had just taken a sip of his tea and was enjoying the warmth in his gut, tilted his head. “How recently? I spoke with him three bells past when he left to inspect the barracks.”

“They cannot take that long to examine, can they? Only, that is the latest anyone around camp has caught sight of him. It is not like him to simply vanish, especially at times like these, and I admit I am suspicious.” Brigie narrowed her eyes.

Corentiaux sighed as he stood. These Inquisitors, ever eager to cast the Church’s judgmental eye upon anyone and everyone. “Then I shall accompany you as you search. If there truly is something foul afoot, you could do much worse than to have a knight at your back.” Corentiaux was one of Haurchefant’s closest subordinates and he knew the man was no heretic. Accusations flew thick as snow these days, though. Perhaps he could help disperse this suspicion ere it became accusation in earnest.

“I would be glad of your help, ser knight.” She turned and threw wide the doors once more. Corentiaux picked up his shield and followed.

* * *

Lit only by the fireplace at the near end of the room and what little light could penetrate both the storm and the rime-encrusted windows, the Camp Dragonhead barracks were possessed of an unsettling atmosphere. Nevertheless, Brigie stepped purposefully across the threshold. “Lord Haurchefant?” she called. No response.

Corentiaux followed her into the room, surveying its dim corners carefully for any sign of the wayward knight. Motion in the back of the room, a shape shrouded in darkness, caught his eye. He stiffened with a clink of chainmail, dropping into a ready stance. “Identify yourself!”

A single, luminous green eye stared back at him out of the darkness. “You first,” hissed a voice.

Brigie grabbed an unlit torch from a wall sconce and plunged it into the fireplace to light it. “_ Inquisitor _Brigie,” she spat, edging closer.

Corentiaux hurried to her side, hand on his sword. “Ser Corentiaux. Now who exactly are you? Speak, ere I judge you a threat.”

“I am a threat.” The glint of a crooked, pointed smile caught the torchlight.

As the dim radius of the torchlight reached the figure's features, Brigie stopped dead. Fickle flame feebly illuminated scales, horns, an intimidating tail. Teeth, stained red and bared. And below the hunched figure, a prone man whose hair shone silvery-blue. A moment of tense silence, then… 

“Heretic!” Brigie shrilled. She dropped her torch, turned on her heel, and sprinted out of the room. “A heretic is attacking Lord Haurchefant! Knights! Knights! To me!”

Corentiaux, meanwhile, drew his weapon and slowly advanced. Haurchefant's assailant was cornered already - all he needed to do was close the trap around them.

Within moments, the clinking of armored footsteps announced the arrival of more knights to the barracks. Six, in total. Without looking, Corentiaux knew they were forming a line around him. One picked up the torch Brigie had dropped, still smouldering on the stone, and used it to ignite a sconce.

The scene only grew more gruesome with the introduction of more light. The insensate Haurchefant had multiple bloody bite marks on his neck, though the disheveled dragon-woman straddling him had yet to successfully tear out his throat. He still drew breath, and Corentiaux meant to keep it that way.

The attacker glared at each knight in turn as they advanced on her, hissing, but she did not make to flee. The fact that she was naked, her form not fully covered in scales and very _ distinctly _ feminine, both repulsed Corentiaux and kindled his curiosity. Was the blood of dragons so potent as to proof against Coerthan chill even before the transformation was complete? But now was not the time to speculate about the biology of his enemy.

Once he was sure she was not going to claim her would-be victim as a hostage, Corentiaux raised his blade, to a chorus of readied steel from his fellows. “I know not how you snuck in here, heretic, but you've committed your last act of violence!”

“Stay your blades.”

It was Haurchefant's voice. His eyes had opened, and his hand rose to interpose itself between Corentiaux's sword and the fierce creature atop him. “This is no heretic, merely a Xaela adventurer from Othard. Qerqei, pray permit me to stand and address my men.”

She crawled off him sullenly and stood off to the side. Haurchefant pulled his trousers back up and got to his feet, and all of a sudden it struck Corentiaux what was actually happening here. He stumbled backwards a pace, eyes wide. “Forgive me, my lord!” His face burned with shame.

Haurchefant chuckled. “It is quite all right, ser. Your reflexes and response were admirable.” He pulled a blanket from a nearby bed and used it to cover Qerqei's nudity, pulling it tight around her shoulders like a cloak.

Qerqei just leered at the knights, who all seemed to be experiencing some balance of realization and embarrassment. None could meet her eyes.

“If you denounce me for what you have witnessed here today, denounce me for treating with an outsider, not for consorting with a heretic, as I am guilty of only the former. I would, however, prefer not to be denounced at all, given House Fortemps' official position on employing non-Coerthans.” Haurchefant seemed in high spirits despite the indignity of it all. “Allow me to explain why Qerqei is here…”

* * *

Rumors spread like wildfire throughout the camp after that day. Lord Haurchefant, caught in the act with a foreign sellsword? Immensely fertile grounds for gossip. Haurchefant did not do much to dissuade the rumors, and Qerqei would eagerly _ confirm _ them if confronted. Fortunately, she eventually moved on to Whitebrim, and without her there to fan the flames, the chatter died down.

When anyone asked about his role in the matter, Corentiaux refused to comment. “It is not my place to speak,” he would reprimand, sipping his tea, “nor is it yours.”


	7. en avant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Qerqei x G'raha Tia; Third-Person Omniscient]
> 
> All of Qerqei's animosity towards G'raha Tia melts away as soon as she actually sees him. Consequently, G'raha Tia abruptly discovers something about himself.
> 
> This chapter assumes foreknowledge of the Labyrinth of the Ancients raid and the quests prior to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the reason I created Qerqei in the first place. Real Catboy Hours start now.
> 
> BTW, between the end of 2.0 and the events of this chapter, there is another chapter I am struggling to write. It's Qerqei x Y'shtola, Y'shtola PoV. My ability to write Y'shtola comes in fits and starts and she will NOT be hurried along. I will come back and add that one later. This one just ended up done first.

Qerqei stomped angrily down the Silvertear path, boots crunching on the loose crystalline gravel. In the grand scheme of things, it was a mere annoyance, but the way Rammbroes’s furtive errand boy had toyed with her positively _ rankled _in the moment. She had the aethersand, but she could have been here bells sooner if not for that childish wretch. Oh, when she caught him she was going to give him a stern talking-to. And perhaps a black eye.

Still smouldering, she pressed the precious sacks against Cid’s chest. He fumbled to get a grip on them, and she left him to it, finding a secluded spot in the camp to sulk.

She could not hold on to the anger, though, and it faded as she let her mind wander. She imagined what kinds of unfathomable riches might lie behind the tower’s gates. What kinds of fearsome creatures might guard them. Soon she would get to the real meat of this adventure. The noisome chores were almost over with. She couldn’t wait.

She hopped up and began to pace. Then, to shadowbox, and finally she took up her lance and practiced her various thrusts and swings. Working up a sweat always did wonders for her mood.

Preoccupied as she was, she did not notice a stealthy figure observing her from atop the unearthed Allagan tower.

* * *

“Finally, the fangs are done!” Cid wiped the sweat from his brow and relaxed his eye, letting the jeweler’s optic fall into his open palm. “Perfect, if I do say so myself.” He blew a bit of spent aethersand from the one he had just finished - the fire-aspected fang - then set it down among its fellows.

“Fine work, Chief!” Biggs gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“I shall locate our errant adventurer. I suppose I ought to summon that _ scholar _ as well, though he’ll surely make himself known whether we want him or not.” With a crackle of joints and a groan, Rammbroes lifted himself from the crate he was seated on and set out to find Qerqei.

* * *

_ This should be a suitably dramatic moment. _ G’raha Tia strolled out from behind the pillar he’d been leaning on, onto the scaffolding. Striking a pose, he hailed Qerqei. Then, with a running leap, he vaulted clean over her and the group, landing opposite them. “Did I not say we would meet again?” he grinned.

Qerqei’s irritated scowl, which had overtaken her face the moment she heard his voice again, faded. Annoying, initially, yes - but he was also handsome. And theatrical. _ Hmm. Perhaps I will give him another chance, _ Qerqei thought, sneering. _ Though I’ll still give him a hard time. It’s only fair. _

“This is G’raha Tia, from the Students of Baldesion. He’s been assigned to the project as an observer. I hope you will forgive him his… eccentricities and welcome him as one of our own.” Rammbroes adjusted his spectacles.

Qerqei strode up to the red-headed Miqo’te and was delighted to discover she had a full ilm on him. Maybe more. With a leering grin that showed off her pointy canines, and a tight grip, she shook his hand. “Charmed to finally meet you in the flesh,” she purred, in a tone that made it clear she had not fully forgiven him for his earlier mischief. She enjoyed the brief flicker of doubt in his eyes, before he returned her grin and squeezed her hand. _ Good. He won’t take it lying down. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this. _

* * *

The gates of aether had been easily breached. The way lay open for Qerqei and her companions to sally forth. Of course, this would involve actually _ having _ companions, which a posting with the Mor Dhona adventurer’s guild was taking care of. Seasoned adventurers trickled down into the camp one-by-one to be briefed.

Qerqei wandered the shores of Silvertear Lake in the meantime, eventually settling down on a crystal outcropping to look out across the water.

“Looks like it’s my turn to search high and low,” came the bemused voice of G’raha Tia from behind her.

She glanced back laconically.

“Are you hiding from me?” He tilted his head, staring inquisitively at her. “You’re not still sore about that little joke, are you?”

“Please.” Qerqei waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

He drew level with her. “May I sit?” he inquired, already squatting.

“Do as you like.”

G’raha settled down, cross-legged. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, having not thought the conversation out this far. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in action,” he finally put forth.

“Everyone always is,” she retorted with a sly grin. “I’ll be sure to put on a show. Try not to cheer me on too hard and sprain something, yeah?”

G’raha laughed good-naturedly. “I will not be brought low so easily.”

“Better not be. I don’t like a man who can’t keep up with me.”

“Oh, the last place I want to be is on your bad side.”

“So does that mean you want to be on my good side?”

G’raha smirked. “I wouldn’t say no,” he shot back. He wasn’t precisely sure where he intended this conversation to lead, but he was having a grand time bantering with the Warrior of Light. And it seemed that she was enjoying herself as well, so --

All of a sudden G’raha’s back was pressed against the crystal ground, the full weight of an armored Xaela straddling his waist and pinning his shoulders.

Qerqei leered down at him with a smile that sent a shudder down G’raha’s spine. “How do you like my good side, huh?” she murmured, shifting her hips a bit.

“W-whoa there,” he hastily began, thinking for sure he had overstepped. “Save some of that for the monsters in the Labyrinth. If I have given offense, I apologize.” Though as the words left his mouth, another possibility suddenly occurred to him.

Her grin only widened.

G’raha exhaled a shaky breath, breaking eye contact for the sake of his racing heart. Despite the startlement and adrenaline, _ part _ of him was undeniably enjoying being pinned like this. If only she would clarify her intent, so he knew which to listen to. “Qerqei?”

“Oh, G’raha.” She brought her face lower, closer to his. “You must be a sheltered scholar indeed if this feels like _ violence _ to you.” She showed him her fangs again.

Well, there was the clarity he was after. Her closeness, her smile, sent another jolt of adrenaline through him. He felt his sarouel tighten another notch. Oh, dear gods, was this really making him _ light-headed? _

“Yes or no, G’raha Tia. The time for banter’s _ past.” _

G’raha blinked, utterly failing to come up with a witty retort. Of all the things she might have done when he approached her here, he never could have predicted _ this. _ He was intimidated, overwhelmed, but he was rapidly discovering he kind of _ liked _ that. She was attractive, in a disheveled sort of way, and _ on top of him, _ and _ eager, _ and… what, precisely, was to stop him from accepting her entreaty? That he was merely supposed to be an _ observer? _He had played fast and loose with that since day one.

G’raha’s stricken expression slowly gave way to a smile. “Well. Carry on,” he panted, and the expression of triumph on her face made him shiver again. _ Seven star-studded hells. _

She licked her lips, slowly and deliberately. G’raha _ might _ have been able to withstand that, if right afterwards she hadn’t had the audacity to fiercely grind her pelvis against his. The perilously aroused G’raha winced, not with pain but with --

Qerqei drew back, letting go of his shoulders. Her smile was the same, but her eyes had widened with incredulous mirth. “Ohhhhohoho,” she exclaimed, her gaze dropping to between her legs. “Already?”

G’raha, mortified, writhed and scrambled out from under her. Face burning, he fled the scene, utterly unable to face her after a display like that. If it had been _ anything else _ he could have deflected with a joke, but to _ come in his trousers _ from just a little grinding! That was simply too much for him to recover from.

* * *

Qerqei searched North Silvertear for G’raha, but by the time the sun set, she had found no sign of him. With a shrug, she accepted that he probably did not want to be found, and trekked back into camp.

Only a handful of adventurers had responded to the request for aid, Rammbroes informed her, so the expedition would likely have to wait until the next day. That suited Qerqei fine. She went to find somewhere to bed down.

However, the tents at Saint Coinach’s Find were all occupied. The Sons of Saint Coinach rarely returned to Revenant’s Toll; their dig site was well-defended day and night by sellswords, and the archaeologists wanted to stay near their research anyway. As such, Qerqei could not find any cots within the camp itself.

After skulking the periphery for a while, Qerqei spotted another tent, apart from the rest, closer to the Crystal Tower. It was unlit and she didn’t hear movement within. Cautiously, she advanced on the tent and drew back the flap…

...To find an arrow point at her throat, with G’raha Tia’s scowl behind it. When he saw who his visitor was, however, he blushed and lowered the arrow. “Come to gloat, have you?”

“About what?” Qerqei tilted her head.

“Don’t make me say it.” He retreated back into his tent, sitting down cross-legged on the bedroll in the center.

“What, back there?” She gestured in the vague direction of the shoreline where she’d straddled him. “You’re embarrassed by that?”

“Why, yes, actually! I ought to last a little longer than that, oughtn’t I?” he exclaimed.

“Well, I guess that can be my revenge for the aethersand thing, then.” She smirked, ducked into the tent herself, and squatted down beside him. “I figured that just meant you were pent up. I didn’t understand why you ran.”

G’raha Tia had gone quite a while without, actually, and his cheeks colored again at the mention of it. “You laughed, though,” he pointed out.

“Only out of surprise.” She sighed. “Do you want to fuck or not, G’raha Tia?”

“I… But…” He raised a hand, then let it fall. “Why me?”

“Why _ not _ you? You’re handsome enough.”

He blinked. “Well… you’ve known me for all of one day! And I spent the first half of that messing with you.”

“Oh, that’s supposed to dissuade me?” Qerqei shook her head, smirking. “I’ve ridden men far worse than you and liked it.”

G’raha Tia chuckled despite himself. “Is that supposed to be encouraging?”

She nodded.

G’raha sighed. “Honestly. Qerqei. I would love nothing more than to make up for my performance earlier. But I can’t quite muster the enthusiasm right now. Why don’t you come back tomorrow night? It can be our celebration of your victory over the Labyrinth’s guardians.”

Qerqei’s smile returned. “I’ll hold you to that.”


End file.
